


I Got You, Sammy

by adolescence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Car Sex, Coming Untouched, M/M, One-Shot, Riding, Season Ambiguous, Sex in the Impala, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolescence/pseuds/adolescence
Summary: Thought I'd write some smutty Impala fun. ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Been awhile since I've written anything Supernatural related, so here you go!
> 
> And, as always, watch where you step. ;)

They were in the back of the ‘67 Chevy Impala, hands everywhere, trying to touch everything, but feeling as if they were getting nothing at all. The windows were fogged from their heavy breathing, the squeak of the leather beneath them shrouded by the pants and the ohs and Sammy’s and Dean’s.

 

The youngest Winchester was just a ball of desperate clutches, sinful whines, and need. Something that was definitely doing it for the eldest, making him teeter on the edge of whatever restraint he had left. He was moments away from flipping them really giving Sammy a reason to keen like that, to moan.

 

Adrenaline pumping through his little brother’s system beat him to it. Sam was already tearing his flannel shirt off his lean torso, down the long length of his arms. His strong thighs were at either sides of Dean’s hips, and they squeezed tight around him, as if they were holding him there. As if Dean would want to leave this. Dean chased Sam’s lips to reassure him that wasn’t, at all, the case, but the pressure didn’t ease even as their lips met in a heated kiss. Not that Dean was complaining.

 

“ _Off_ ,” Was what left Sam’s lips in a breathless pant against Dean’s own.

 

Dean realized that he was tugging at his jeans. Hurriedly, he complied, helping Sam out of his jeans. Thankfully Baby had plenty of room in the back seat for two full grown men to get their freak on, so it was possible. The little minx wasn’t wearing any underwear, either. Next was Dean’s jeans, which came off surprisingly easy. Easier than Sam’s had been. Sammy didn’t even bother with Dean’s shirt, only pushing it up his torso, leaving his hand to splay against his heaving chest.

 

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, hands at the naked jut of his baby boy’s restless hips.

 

“Dean,” He whispered back.

 

Dean’s boxer’s were around his ankles in a matter of seconds. The eldest had momentary trouble kicking them the rest of the way off, as well as shrugging out of his own flannel, but he managed.

 

“Need you.” Sammy murmured, leaning in for another kiss. It was a sloppy, messy one, but anything he got from Sam was always amazing. He broke it. “Need you so bad.”

 

“I know, baby. I know,” He wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled his naked body in close against his own partially clothed one, one of his hands reaching out frantically for a bottle in the floor of the car, which he found. Uncapping it, he awkwardly managed to get some into his hand and smear it along his fingers. One arm around Sam, hand splayed against the center of his back to keep his wriggling body still against him, he used his lubed hand to find the swell of Sam’s ass. “I need you, too, Sammy.”

 

His slick fingers ran down the cleft of Sam’s rear, easily done with the younger man’s back arched the way it was. An involuntary shudder ran through both of them, Dean’s tepid finger finding Sam’s hole, and Sam’s teeth finding a pressure point along the side of Dean’s neck where his baby boy’s head had been tucked as he pressed him to himself.

 

“Jesus-!” Sam gasped against Dean’s neck, just under his ear. “S’cold.”

 

“Sorry, baby boy,” His finger was persistent, though, as it circled his hole. “I know. I know. D’you want me t’stop?”

 

“N-o, no, no,” Sam repeated over and over. “Please.”

 

“Needy little thing today, aren’t you?” Dean teased softly, breathlessly, into Sam’s long hair.

 

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam huffed unconvincingly. “Open me up already, would you?”

 

“And you call _me_ bossy,” Dean chuckled. “ _Bitch_.”

 

Before Sam had time to retaliate, Dean pushed his finger passed the ring of muscle, successfully inside of him. It punched a moan out of Sam, one that was a mixture of discomfort and pleasure; it was always like that in the beginning. It would be all pleasure here before too long, though. Dean always made sure of that.

 

“Dean, please,”

 

“I got you, baby boy. Don’t worry.”

 

Dean pushed inside of him up to his knuckle, and pulled back out until he was just barely at the rim. He only plunged back into Sam when he got a whine, and that’s when he started up a slow, steady pace. Pushing and stretching, getting him prepared for a second. He slipped another one in and Sam moaned into his shoulder, where he buried his head. But that was nothing compared to the groans he got when he started scissoring him open.

 

“Sound so pretty, Sammy,” Dean purred, stretching his baby boy. “Taking them s’good for me, too. Always do. Like a champ, ain’t that right?”

 

Sam could only managed a noise that sounded something like a _Yes_. And _Just f. . . you_.

 

Once he was sure Sam was ready, and when Sam’s hips started to get restless again, Dean pulled his fingers out. They left with a wet pop, and Sam was moaning the loss.

 

Again, Sam beat him to the punch. He was already reaching between them and wrapping his strong fingers around Dean’s cock, positioning himself over it. Dean relinquished his pressure on Sam’s back, sitting both hands on the sharp jut of his hipbones. Even that little bit of attention to his achingly hard cock got Dean to groan, nice and low, and that just seemed to spur Sam on. Slowly, his baby boy started to sink down, not stopping until he was fully seated on his lap.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam whimpered, eyebrows drawn together as he adjusted. Two fingers wasn’t enough, but the bit of guilt Dean felt in the form of a pang in his chest was nothing compared to the pleasure he got out of Sam’s wet heat clenching around his cock.

 

“Feel s’good, Sammy.” Dean groaned.

 

There wasn’t much room for Sam to sit upright in Dean’s lap, so he continued to hunch over his brother, which he didn’t seem to mind. Sam was clutching handfuls of the undershirt still clinging to Dean’s chest, all hiked up under his arms, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

 

Fucking _finally_ , Sam started to move. It had been tempting to thrust up into that tight heat, but he knew Sammy had to adjust, wanted this to be good for his Sammy, and he let him do just that. Even if it required every ounce of restraint he had not to.

 

His eyes didn’t open at first, but his wet, petal pink lips parted, and Dean was only half aware of the things he was saying. Things like _Such a good boy, huh?_ and _Feel so nice, Sammy. S’good_ and Really pretty like this, you got no idea, and they all got Sam to open his pretty eyes. A blush painted Sam’s cheeks pink, a mixture of it being sex induced and just plain bashfulness.

 

It wasn’t long into their gasps and moans and touching that Sam’s hips were undulating, hard but slow, and Dean’s hips were meeting his in little jack-knife movements. Any kisses were hard and teeth gnashing and sloppy, but Dean loved it. And judging from the noises Sam was making against him, he didn’t mind it too much, either.

 

Sam’s hips began a quicker, more fervent pace, hands on Dean’s chest and shoulders, fingers and nails digging in. Dean’s grip on Sam’s hip and thigh were much the same, nails digging into the meat of Sam’s thigh, fingers grasping and clutching at his sharp hipbone. Like if they let go, they might lose each other.

 

Pleasure and desperation and desire were all pooling deep in the pit of Dean’s stomach, coiling. Tension was building and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last like this. Not with Sam looking the way he did, clenching around him and riding him with everything he’s got. It was over the moment Sam looked down into his eyes, his own fox-slanted and dark with need, lips parted and spilling _Dean_ ’s and _please_ ’s.

 

Sam slammed down one more time and he spiraled off that edge. Dean came so hard he was almost certain he pulled something, and the guttural shout that left his lips almost sounded like a " _Sammy!_ ”

 

“Dean!” Sammy followed up in a broken, hoarse cry as he came, too, muscles clenching around Dean as he filled him. He painted Dean’s stomach white, spurt after spurt.

 

The post-sex high had them both dazed, and Sam collapsed on Dean, smearing the come between them, but they couldn’t be bothered. Sam wasn’t a small man, but Dean was used to the weight, comforted by it. Because it was Sam.

 

A lazy grin pulled at Dean’s lips, a new kind of satisfaction washing over him.

 

“Sam?” He asked.

 

A moment later, a languid response came. “Yeah?”

 

“I didn’t even _touch_ you, man, and you still shot off like a damn rocket.”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Sam only buried his head further into the safety of the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean could feel the embarrassed heat of Sam’s cheeks.

 

Despite this, he still punched Dean in the shoulder.

 

“Ow, Bitch!”

 

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> #goingtohell
> 
> Your thoughts are always welcome! ^^


End file.
